


Mother, how does one love a fool?

by birch_fence



Series: Look it’s a drabble [1]
Category: Ao no Exorcist | Blue Exorcist
Genre: Character Study, Drabble, Gen, Illuminati, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-14 07:40:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29042538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/birch_fence/pseuds/birch_fence
Summary: After Renzo returns to True Cross, Bon and Renzo have a chat.—Renzo ponders the worth of his relationships.
Relationships: Kamiki Izumo & Suguro "Bon" Ryuuji, Shima Renzou & Suguro "Bon" Ryuuji
Series: Look it’s a drabble [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2130675
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	Mother, how does one love a fool?

**Author's Note:**

> Please I am just a dorito

Troublesome, troublesome. Renzo feels off today. His stomach is up in knots and there’s an identifiable lump in his throat. He frowns, rolling onto his side. He waves the feeling away, deciding on the inanity of these ponderings. 

—provoking too much thought. 

Even sorting through his porn magazines could not quell this feeling, something which would concern him if he’d minded terribly. But no, he’d rather not dwell on these things, trying to understand his own thoughts and feelings alludes to applying effort. Reaching past his shallow face and into a world of things he’d never seen, will cure little but his own boredom.

But he’s not bored, not now. The things he does keep the pendulum of his mind swinging, swinging. He saves the revelations of his actions for the time before his end. He predicts—knows—that it won’t be swift. Whether he’s tortured to death by the Illuminati, the True Cross, or bleeding out upon the pavement, he’ll have the comfort of his thoughts to entertain his mind until his last breath. 

Perhaps then he will understand why he does these things, and he wonders if he’ll regret it.

Renzo frowns as he folds his arms behind his head. The muscles pull taut and sore, his ribs creak. His body still aches after his scuffle with Okumura. Although he _is_ intact, so, silver lining. 

The dorm room door opens, revealing Ryuji, casually dressed and strangely somber. Renzo absently wonders why he’d been out so late.

Ryuji shrugs off his coat, because it is getting colder, removing from his satchel what Renzo describes as homework. He chuckles to himself because that’s typical of Ryuji, especially on a Friday night. _Always working, working._

“I spoke with Kamiki-san.”

Ah, Renzo thinks, so that’s where he was. 

After a handful of moments he opens his eyes slowly, half-lidded and lazy, because there’s no better defense than a lack of reaction. A lack of care. Faces are Renzo’s specialty, after all.

_Oh, did ya finally ask her out?_  
_This isn’t a joke, Shima.  
_ _She didn’t reject ya, did she?_

Renzo snickers to himself. Although he shuts up when he feels Ryuji’s gaze jerk to him, brash and open, a lack of subtlety. Renzo keeps his eyes to the ceiling. 

“She won’t speak of what she endured,” he says, almost thoughtful. Renzo hums in response. They both know, despite Izumo’s willful disposition, her plea for help won’t extend so far as to relinquish her feelings to him. Although, Ryuji had always been soft and sensitive, caring of others. It’s one of the reasons Renzo hates him so much.

“But you know, right?” The timbre of Ryuji’s voice is poorly cloaked with accusation. It’s demanding and strong, yet hollow with wounds. It’s a tremor of emotion so small Renzo knows only he’s able to pick up on it. And a part of him revels in it. 

Renzo feels compelled to view his expression. 

Ryuji’s staring at him, his head is tilted slightly and his lips are pressed and frowning. Renzo nearly bursts with laughter when thinking of how much he resembles a kicked dog. He recognizes the effect of his words and actions yet a part of him still dares to answer loftily, like what they discuss is light and worthy of jest. 

Ryuji sighs, sliding his gaze from him, a thread of annoyance. “Don’t you feel guilty?”

The first bit of bait. Although Renzo understands this is more for Ryuji than himself. These questions are designed to prove Renzo as good and fallible. Not set in his ways and twisted beyond repentance.

“Well,” Renzo starts, “there was nothin’ I coulda done—

“There was everythin’ you coulda done!” In his rage, Ryuji’s accent shows itself. A thing Renzo noticed he’d suppressed, purposefully or not, for Lightning. Because the man is supposedly a god. 

—as if enunciated syllables were a testament to one’s intelligence.

Renzo frowns, closing his eyes. 

There’s no hesitance or apology in the rhythm of Ryuji’s breath and Renzo slowly realises that he’s awaiting an answer. 

He realizes he doesn’t have one that sounds valid, free of excuse. But when did he care what Ryuji thinks of him? Renzo turns away, his back to him. And he thinks about telling him of how different they are, that this conversation had been a waste of breath, that Ryuji should give up on him. 

Yet he knows that he’ll always be a part of Ryuji’s heart and a part of him, a small oppressed bit, tells him to keep Ryuji in his heart as well. 

Renzo sighs loudly to keep Ryuji’s demands in his mouth. “Don’t waste your time, Bon.” And with the strangest feeling of reluctance he says: “My interest lies in the longevity of this crusade.”

**Author's Note:**

> Uhm please leave feedback


End file.
